


Forbidden Love

by Saberian_Dream



Series: The Caretakers Saga [1]
Category: Dragon Ball GT, Dragon Ball Super (elements), Dragon Ball Z, Elfen Lied
Genre: Action, Butt Sex, Drama, F/M, Family Fluff, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, Lust at First Sight, Past Rape, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 02:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saberian_Dream/pseuds/Saberian_Dream
Summary: Yuka Kuminori is almost 19 years old, and the shadow of loss and pain from nearly eight years before still haunts her to the present day, but with the discovery of a young boy on the beach that she kindly takes into her home and cares for, she soon learns that her life will never be the same, and for the better.





	Forbidden Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GohanLSSJ2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GohanLSSJ2/gifts), [PrismBunny90](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismBunny90/gifts).

**(Day 1)**

_September 24, Saturday, 2016, 6:01 P.M._

She sighed a little as the mushy wet dirt of the pounding shoreline squeezed through her bare toes, making small, squishy indents in the shape of her feet as she passed along. Her name was Yuka Kuminori, a tall girl, who looked to be maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, with wide, curving hips, leading up into her full, rounded bosom, ample thighs that descended into slender legs and lightly tanned olive skin with chocolate-hued eyes set ever so lovingly between her elegant chestnut-brown cropped hair styled in a classic Japanese fashion, which tapered off near her shoulders. She wore a short ruby-red tank top that left her shoulders and abdomen bare over blue jeans enfolded by a thick belt to show off all her lovely feminine lines. All in all, Yuka was quite a gorgeous lady, and what many fine young suitors would consider to be quite a catch — the quintessential "girl next door."

At the moment, though, love was the farthest thing from her mind.

With her jeans rolled up to her ankles in order to prevent getting splashed by the roaring surf Yuka was able to let the rush of tides in and out guide her thoughts reflectively underneath the seething, misty glare of flaming orange-red smears and purplish-pink streaks across the horizon which was the setting sun in the dusk sky.

_Kouta-kun..._ she recalled with no small amount of sadness in her heart. _It's been almost eight years... and you'd have been nineteen, just like me. We... we would be about to start college together... why did you have to die and leave me feeling this way? You were always were a jerk, I guess..._

For her cousin, the boy she had developed strong feelings for, and even as a child, entertained the notion of marriage, had died in 2009, his mangled body pulled from the wreck of a train in front of a sobbing Yuka and her equally grief-stricken mother. While an "official" inquiry spearheaded by the Kamakura detective's office into the smashed remnants had yielded no cause to the inexplicable derailment and it was labeled an "accident," Yuka had always wondered why, for as far as the authorities could determine, the rail line appeared to have been in top shape prior to the boarding. It was all moot in the end though. And Kouta was dead, there could be no doubt to that, leaving the heartbroken eleven-year-old to try and pick up the pieces to her life, for the train crash had also taken out her uncle, Kouta's father and his daughter, her other cousin Kanae. There had been a little funeral for them, one which barely attracted a dozen visitors, for most of her family had been lost in the incident, and, of those who _did_ show up, had simply been honorable well-wishers and guilty representatives of the train association to who had felt personal responsibility for their deaths. To say the triple loss had hit Yuka very painfully was an understatement, and she had gotten held back for a year in elementary school as her grades slipped.

Yuka gave a deep sigh of regret mixed in with shame.

_You _know_ that's not fair, Yuka,_ she chastised herself. _Kouta-kun and poor little Kanae-chan have it far worse than you do. But then... there was nothing bitter or unhappy about the way they lived their lives. And they wouldn't want to be remembered like this, with such bittersweet memories and hollow sadness. So then why is it so hard to let go of them in my heart?_

She strolled down the beach and gazed upon all of it with a reverent, wistful stare, feeling the clogging wrench of nostalgic flashbacks nearly choking in their overwhelming potency... the yank which they had on her soul and mind, practically suffocating, wanting to drown her in their smothering aroma and solitary fragrance.

_Kanae loved to pick up seashells by the shore, and Kouta-kun sure loved to tease her about it,_ she mused emptily. _The little brat..._

Perhaps it was simply a matter of perspective, for Yuka had only recently lost her mother a year ago. After the loss of her remaining family, it was as if the "spark of life" had completely gone out of her mother's spirit, and whenever she looked upon her daughter, there was a stained hint of deep, unfathomable pain to her eyes, of a mourning so vastly profound, it was beyond words or her ability to express, sapping the energy right out of her so that, ultimately, she went to join all three merely half a decade following their untimely passing, leaving Yuka the sole survivor to her departed family, a crushing weight of burden and responsibility that she didn't entirely know how to cope with or even that she _wanted_ to cope with, not on her own without somebody else by her side to help her deal with it.

But then, she _would_ have to deal with it on her own; for she was the last Kuminori, and as much as she desperately wished for the courage and strength and the warm, gentle words of her mother to guide her through this, it was not to be, and would never be again; even now Yuka still felt bewildered to recall how she had been able to pass her national achievement test just a day ago, given how badly her grades had suffered corresponding with the immeasurably agonizing loss of the last direct blood relative which she'd had left.

As she meandered down the beach line, her thoughts turned even _more_ penitently melancholic, aching with all the painful longing and wretched heartsickness and many hours spent weeping silently to herself only an orphan as immensely _lonely_ as herself could ever suffer, a despair of the soul only those like her would know or remotely could even come close to relate to.

_Okaa-san, I miss you so much._ She then came to a halt, her shoulders heaving, and to the sands below fell sprinkling droplets of deep, soul-crushing anguish and heartfelt sorrow, almost too vast to contain in her body. _Kouta-kun. And Kanae-chan... I'm alone. I'm all alone with nothing but my memories to keep you all close to my heart, yet how in the world can I honor your lives and everything that gave it meaning and made them happy if it's like broken glass carving into my skin? I'm failing high school, and I don't know if there's going to be any future left for me once I've flunked out..._

"I want to go home..." She wept, and turned her head upwards...

And, to her shock, blinked the hot tears rapidly from her system, for she found something lying on the beach right in front of her, a ragged mass of purplish-blue garments and shaggy black locks and crimson blood. Another blink as the object emerged through a tear-stained haze to reveal itself more fully as an adolescent boy — with a mop of jet-black raven hair arrayed like a halo near his head, a stocky, solidly built frame, and what appeared to be a martial arts uniform that was covered in various rips and cuts through which red bloodstains and many scraps and gashes were visible across his lightly pale peach flesh, but most pronounced especially upon his right arm, which appeared to be one solid mass of bright ruby; from the general look and shape of the youth, she would hazard some speculation that he'd been out here exposed to the elements for some time — perhaps all day.

"Nani...?" she said, using the back of her palm to dry the tears. "It's a boy, but what's he doing all the way out here and in this condition?"

But, then, suddenly her sense of compassion kicked in and overrode any feeling of confusion she might be experiencing as Yuka's beautiful brown eyes widened ever so slightly where she stood, and one thing became instantly obvious, clear beyond a shadow of a doubt, that demanded immediate action.

"He's hurt!" she cried, and rushed over to kneel down next to him. Laying a delicate hand upon his backside she winced at how _raw_ the skin felt underneath her touch, like pulverized meat, with damp blood trickling between her fingers, though she didn't care about staining her hand. "Oh you poor boy... what on Earth could have happened to you to leave you in a state like this?"

_Who is he?_ she pondered, turning him over, so she could examine his face; a cute pinpoint button nose, a prominent chin, and boyish cheeks that still seemed to be filled with baby fat. _I don't think I've ever met him around the streets of Kamakura, but then I haven't really met everybody who lives here._

For a couple minutes longer, she peered down upon him, locked in a silent staring contest, before an embarrassed blush caught up with her.

"Oh Yuka, you foolish girl!" she berated herself. "How could you be having such thoughts when the poor boy is plainly injured? He needs medical attention, and right now, if he's going to have any hope of recovery!"

She glanced up and down round the beach, as if expecting emergency medical aid to magically be conjured up, but then, with a weary sigh she turned back to face the wounded youth again, eyebrows heavy with the knowledge of what she was now required to do.

_He needs me..._ she realized. She steeled herself, and took a deep breath. _Okay, first things first, he needs to have his wounds cleaned and dressed. I suppose I can take him back to my house to do this — or the inn. It's closer than my home, and it is still mine... plus, there is a bathtub that will work to treat him just as well as back at my place. Though the sento might be a better choice..._

"All right," she told herself, nodding vehemently to convince herself. "All right, Yuka, you can do it — it's just one small step at a time."

And she stretched herself down to tenderly and oh so gingerly scoop the boy up into her arms while using great care to shift him within her grasp as she did so that she didn't bump up against his wounds, and hefted him into a position laying bridal-style across her bosom. His face had flopped onto her left breast, and she couldn't help but to smile for reasons that escaped her — perhaps some unrequited maternal instinct with Kouta denied to her forever?

_He _is_ rather cute, as cute as Kouta-kun had been,_ she remarked to herself, but quickly spotted the direction her thoughts had wandered in, and blushed angrily at herself. _Stupid, stupid fool, Yuka! This is hardly the time to be thinking that way, not with the poor boy so horribly banged up! Besides — he's too young for you anyway._

With a nod of confirmation Yuka tightened her hold on the wounded boy with the messy hair and marched down the beach towards where she had left her shoes, slipping them on easily enough, then headed to the stone stairs leading to the streets and the alleyways of Kamakura proper — jogging as quickly as it was possible to make this journey with the young boy still gently sleeping upon her puffy chest, as lightweight as a sack of feathers — and walking headlong toward her awaiting destiny, totally unaware of the complex chain of events which would be spawned off by a fortuitous encounter between a gorgeous young woman and a wounded little boy on the beach...


End file.
